


Food & Comfort

by Readingfanfics



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Caring Sherlock, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Sherlock is a good friend, even if he doesn't realise it, stressed out greg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 07:42:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18339188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Readingfanfics/pseuds/Readingfanfics
Summary: Sometimes all you need is some food and comfort after a bad day.





	Food & Comfort

Sherlock was just finishing up his latest experiment when there was a loud, insistent knock on the door. He frowned, checking the time, his frown deepening when he noticed it was around 10:30 PM. No wonder his back was aching. He’d been sitting over his microscope for at least three hours. 

 

The knocking started again, a fraction louder and Sherlock sighed, heading to his front door. Whoever it was, wasn’t going away soon. He opened the door, reading to snap at whoever it was for coming round here this late but stopped when Lestrade looked up at him. 

 

“Lestrade?” Sherlock stepped aside, gesturing to the DI to come in and he caught a whiff of cigarette smoke as Greg walked passed him. A stressful day then. Sherlock closed the door, turning around and squinting his eyes to take Greg in closely.

 

Everything about his body language screamed tired and stressed and Sherlock stepped forward, taking Greg’s coat, ignoring the look of surprise on his face. He placed it on a kitchen chair, taking Greg by the arm after a second of debating and guiding him to the sofa. 

 

“I,” Greg looked up, licking his dry lips before rubbing his face and letting out a frustrated sigh. “The Brendon case. You know we-”

 

“Of course.” Sherlock replied, sitting down next to Greg, keeping a bit of space between them. Cherly Brendon had been in the news for the last couple of weeks. A 8-year-old child, never made it home from school one evening. The whole country had held their collective breath, following the investigation closely. Sherlock had helped as best he could, finding a couple of clues to push them forward but it had taken a week till they’d found her. Severely beaten and assaulted. It took another week to find the culprit. A 15-year-old boy by the name of David Harris. He lived a couple of blocks away and his sister had been friends with Cherly. They went to the same art class after school. 

 

“We charged him today. He- he told us everything. I can’t-” Greg stopped, his face pale as he swallowed a couple of times. “We couldn’t even let the dad see her. I’ll never forget the look in his eyes when we told him. She was so- God, Sherlock.” 

 

A tear ran down Greg’s cheek and Sherlock reached out a hand to brush it away before stopping himself. He dropped his hand awkwardly on his lap, standing up when he felt Greg’s eyes on him. His heart pounded in his chest, hands sweating. He didn’t know what to do. Greg was clearly in need of comfort but Sherlock didn’t know how to provide that. People usually didn’t go to him for comfort. They went to get answers, to collect facts. They needed him for his brain and intellect, not his compassion.

 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn't have-” Greg whispered, getting up and Sherlock blurted out the first thing that came to mind, suddenly terrified Greg would leave. 

 

“Chicken parmesan.” 

 

“What?” Greg asked, confusion all over his face as he sat back down. Sherlock felt his cheeks redden, blinking his eyes rapidly as he tried to force the words out. It felt like a century until he was able to speak. 

 

“Mrs. Hudson always makes too much food and she brought over a tray of chicken parmesan earlier tonight. In times of stress, people offer food.”

 

“You-you're offering me dinner?” Greg asked, a tiny smile on his lips when Sherlock nodded. He didn’t know where to place his hands, feeling out of his depth. His face felt like a furnace and he quickly turned around when Greg’s smile grew, lighting up the darkest corners in his living room. 

 

“I’ll heat it up.” Sherlock called out, almost running to the kitchen to set to work. It didn’t take long for his flat to smell incredible and he nearly jumped out of his skin when Greg’s voice came from behind him. 

 

“Smells amazing.” 

 

There was a flicker of amusement in the DI’s eyes when Sherlock turned around, placing a hand above his heart before he knew he was doing it. He walked past Greg, getting out plates and other cutlery. For some reason, his kitchen felt incredibly small. 

 

“Do you-” Sherlock gestured towards the kitchen table and Greg nodded, taking the plates out of Sherlock’s hand and setting them opposite each other. Sherlock’s fingers tingled as he placed the forks and knives, adding a glass to the plates before turning to the oven. He heard Greg take a seat as the bell rang and he carefully took out the tray, placing it in the middle of the table.

 

“Damn. I didn’t even realize I was hungry till now. Looks great.” Greg smiled and Sherlock stood still next to the table, glued to the ground almost. He looked at Greg looking at him, mentally cursing himself for acting so weird. 

 

_ Stop acting like a freak!  _

 

“You’re not going to make me eat alone, are you?” 

 

Sherlock blinked, shaking his head when Greg’s words registered, sitting down and gesturing to Greg to plate up. Greg held up a full spoon of food and Sherlock offered up his own plate when Greg raised an eyebrow. Sherlock looked down, taking his fork but placing it back down and standing up, heading to the fridge to take out some lemonade. 

 

“I- I don’t have beer or anything.” 

 

“That’s fine. Lemonade will do.” 

 

Sherlock poured their glasses, placing the bottle on the corner of the table before sitting down again and taking his fork. Greg let out an approving hum and something inside Sherlock’s chest warmed up. He glanced at Greg, seeing the man eat with pleasure and he finally took his own bite. It wasn’t bad at all. They mostly ate in silence; Greg filling his plate for a second time, asking if Sherlock wanted another portion. Sherlock shook his head and Greg rolled his eyes fondly. 

 

“At least you’ve eaten something. Was this your only meal today?” 

 

Sherlock squinted his eyes, needing to think for a few seconds. Had he not eaten before this?

 

“I had breakfast. Bit of toast and a banana.” 

 

“No wonder you stay so thin.” Greg said, no malice or jealousy in his eyes as he looked at Sherlock, smiling when he took another bite of his food. Sherlock looked down at himself, frowning slightly and his body jolted when Greg’s hand covered his own. 

 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean- You look good.” Greg stammered, taking a long gulp of his lemonade. “I mean, I do worry sometimes about you not eating enough but- you’re- you know?” 

 

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, Greg looked down at his plate and Sherlock saw the beginning of a blush. Greg’s ears always turned red when he was embarrassed and it was melting a part of Sherlock's heart. He wanted to cool the heated skin down with a flick of his tongue. 

 

Greg glanced up at him, tiredness in his eyes and Sherlock swallowed, feeling parched as they looked at each other from across the table. 

 

“Are- Are you done?” Sherlock asked after he found his voice back, gesturing at the table like an idiot. Greg nodded, drinking the last of his beverage, smiling at Sherlock before getting up and taking his cutlery to the sink. 

 

“I can help with the washing up, least I can do.” 

 

“No need. These will make an excellent experiment.” Sherlock said, placing the plates to the side, shrugging a shoulder when Greg raised an eyebrow. “Science never sleeps, Lestrade. You can never have enough data.” 

 

“If you say so.” Greg mumbled, looking at the plates suspiciously.

 

“I- I should probably go. It’s late and you-”

 

“Do you want a cup of tea?” Sherlock asked quickly, holding his breath as he waited for Greg to answer. Greg looked at him, eyebrow raised. 

 

“Are you sure? I mean, I did barge in here and-”

 

“It’s fine.” Sherlock interrupted, his voice a fraction too hard. He took out the kettle, filling it with water as he waved Greg away. “I’ll bring the tray to the living room. Go.” 

 

“Bossy sod, aren’t you?” Greg’s voice was fond as he said it and Sherlock felt his cheeks heat up, focusing his eyes on the kettle as placed it on the stove. He let out a sigh when Greg went to the living room, shoulders relaxing. He blinked, watching the kettle as the water warmed up. 

 

_ What are you doing?  _  A voice very similar to Mycroft’s asked him and Sherlock couldn’t answer. Something deep inside him just wanted to take care of Greg. It was clear the DI was distressed and in shock because of the Brendon case and Greg had gone to him, Sherlock, for- For what exactly? 

 

The water finally boiled and Sherlock arranged a tray, finding two clean cups in the cupboard and even a couple of biscuits Mrs. Hudson had bought for him a few days ago. His let out a breath when he walked out, careful not to let the tray fall. Greg jolted awake when Sherlock placed the tray on the table, rubbing his tired eyes before looking at Sherlock with a faint smile. 

 

“Sorry, it’s been a long day. Week even.”

 

“Don’t apologize. Tea’s ready.”  _ Of course, the tea is ready! You just sat it down, idiot.  _ Sherlock ignored his brother’s voice as he poured out a cup for each of them, placing a biscuit on Greg’s saucer. Greg took it, a glint of amusement in his eyes and Sherlock’s stomach felt warm as he sat down next to Greg, careful to keep space between them. 

 

“Hmn, perfect.” 

 

“No milk, one sugar.” 

 

“Yeah, how do you-”

 

Sherlock gave Greg a look and Greg smiled, shaking his head before muttering an ‘of course.” 

 

They sat in silence for a while, sipping their tea. Sherlock noticed Greg’s body gradually relax, the tension in his shoulders fading. Greg’s eyes went over the flat, sometimes raising an eyebrow, sometimes not able to stop a smile. It felt strange but not invading. 

 

“Have you read all of those?” Greg asked, gesturing his head towards the bookcase. Sherlock placed his cup down, looking at all his books. The shelves were beginning to bend because of the weight but he’d always found it difficult to part with books. They gave him knowledge, helped him learn about new things. They gave inspiration in boring times and guidance in difficult ones. Most of all they helped him escape from the real world for a bit. In a healthier way than when he’d done drugs. It wasn’t as strong, of course, but it was something and now with Greg’s cases and his own clients it was enough to help him cope. 

“Yes. All of them. Some multiple times. You’re free to look for something if you like?” 

 

“Don’t think I have the brains to keep up.” Greg said, but he stood up anyway, perusing the shelves. 

 

“You’ve read Harry Potter?” Greg’s eyes were wide as he held up a copy and Sherlock nodded, embarrassed. He took his cup, taking a sip to not have to look at Greg. 

 

“Hey,” Greg’s voice was close and he flinched, not having realized the DI had sat down again, hardly any space between them. He smelled a trace of Greg’s cologne, seeing the lines around his eyes when he looked up. He reached out a hand, wanting to smooth those lines away. It was only when his fingers caressed them that he realized what he was doing and he pulled back as if stung. 

 

“Sorry!” He blurted it out, the word bouncing off the walls as he got up. Not knowing where to go or what to say. His heart was pounding, fingers tingling from touching Greg’s skin and his mind shut down, glueing him to the spot. 

 

“It’s fine, Sherlock. Sherlock?” 

 

Greg was there, looking at him with curiosity and the beginning of worry but Sherlock couldn’t say anything, his mind blank, muscles frozen. He blinked rapidly, mouth falling open to speak but words had left him. 

 

“Sherlock? Okay, this is getting a bit scary. Sherlock.” Greg’s hand on his wrist felt like fire and he snapped out of his catatonic-like state. Greg gave a gentle, insecure smile as he tightened his hold on Sherlock’s wrist and Sherlock followed him back to the sofa. Sitting down on the edge of it, his back straight. Greg’s thumb was caressing his wrist and it was all Sherlock could focus on. He closed his eyes, letting the touch warm him from head to toe. 

 

“Oh.” 

 

Sherlock's eyes snapped open, snatching his wrist out of Greg’s hold. The disappointment on Greg’s face cut into his heart and he got up again, restlessness taking over. 

 

“Sherlock.”

 

“I can’t do this!” He snapped, flinching from the hardness in his own words but Greg didn’t move. “I don’t know how- People don’t usually- They don’t- I- I don’t know what’s supposed to happen now.” 

 

“Happen?”

 

“I gave you food. I gave you tea. That’s what people normally do right? When someone is in need of comfort? They offer food and beverages. I- I don’t know what to do next. I’m not good at this!” 

 

“Sherlock, stop.” Greg got up, holding him by his arms and Sherlock took a deep breathe in. Greg was looking at him with concern and Sherlock couldn't bare it. He breathed out, almost growling, trying to step out of Greg's hold but Greg only held him tighter, eyes scanning Sherlock’s face as if trying to deduce him. 

 

“Breathe, Sherlock. I don’t know why you’re suddenly so freaked out but there’s really no need. You’ve done everything fine. Just fine.” 

 

Sherlock forced himself to breathe in and out, eyes on Greg’s face the whole time. Shame started settling in and he looked down at the floor, feeling Greg squeeze his arms. 

 

“It’s all fine, Sherlock. I swear. I- I’m sorry.” 

 

“Sorry?” Sherlock looked up, confused by the mix of emotions in Greg’s eyes. He couldn’t figure them out and he squinted, leaning forward as if that would help. Greg bit his lip, his grip on Sherlock tighter before he let go of him, taking a step back and running a hand through his hair. 

 

“I shouldn't have come here without- without asking if it was okay. I just.” Greg let out a sigh, rubbing his face before speaking again and it almost physically pained Sherlock how Greg’s shoulders slumped. “ It was just a crappy week and then with the whole Brendon case. Finding out it was just a- just a kid. Doing those things. It- Fuck!” Greg closed his eyes, fighting the tears and Sherlock wanted to step forward and wrap him in his arms. 

 

“Thank you for the food, Sherlock. And the company. It really- You really did help. I’m going now.” 

 

“What?” Sherlock whispered, his heart stopping as Greg walked to the chair to get his coat. He moved, standing in front of the door, holding up his hands to stop Greg. All his senses seemed to be heightened as he looked at Greg, opening his mouth to speak. Letting out a huff of frustration when the words didn’t come out. 

 

“Sherlock?”

 

Sherlock swallowed, clearing his throat and finally he was able to speak. 

 

“Don’t go. I- I don’t want you to go. If you- If you don’t want to go.” 

 

“I thought you didn’t-” Greg starts, making wrinkles in his coat as he squeezes it. Sherlock takes a step forward, his heart having dropped to his stomach. 

 

“I’m not good at this,” Sherlock gestured between them. “Social interaction. I don’t- I say the wrong things. I don’t always understand what another person is trying to say. I- I have trouble with figuring out emotions. People don’t come to me for comfort. I- I don’t know how it works.”

 

“Sherlock.” 

 

The way Greg says his name makes him stop rambling, letting out a breath from somewhere deep inside of him. 

 

Greg smiled, gesturing to the table that had their teacups on it, now probably cold. 

 

“This is comfort. Giving me a good meal, a warm drink, spending time together. It’s more than enough. Honestly. I wasn’t looking forward to going home to my empty flat. And then I thought about you, hoping you’d still be awake. Cause you hardly ever sleep.”

 

“Sleep is for the weak.” Sherlock muttered, surprised when Greg let out a laugh, his eyes soft. 

 

“Yeah, sleep is for the weak.” Greg whispered, taking a step closer, slowly reaching out his hand and Sherlock closed his eyes, letting Greg cup his cheek with his warm hand. 

 

“You did everything right, Sherlock. I promise.”

 

Sherlock held his breath as he felt Greg’s lips on his own for just a few seconds. It was soft, floating, barely a kiss at all and Sherlock opened his eyes, frowning when Greg simply smiled at him. 

 

“You’re a better man than you give yourself credit for, Sherlock.” 

 

“I-” Sherlock stopped, placing his hand over Greg’s hand that was still cupping his cheek. 

 

“It’s fine, Sherlock. I’m not asking for more.” Greg whispered, caresses Sherlock’s flushed skin with his thumb. 

 

Disappointment settled in Sherlock’s stomach, hot and fast and Greg gave him a questioning look. “What-” Nervousness almost closed off Sherlock’s throat but he swallowed it down. “What if I want there to be more.” 

 

“That’s not the kind of comfort I -”

 

“I know.” Sherlock said, his other hand slightly trembling when he placed it on Greg’s hip. “But I- I want you to kiss me again.” 

 

“Sherlock.” Greg’s voice was a whisper, his pupils dilated and Sherlock nodded, shifting his hand to Greg’s hip. 

 

“You’re sure about this? This isn’t some weird form of-”

 

“No.” Sherlock shook his head and Greg smiled, his other hand coming up and cradling Sherlock's face between his hands. 

 

“Okay then.” Greg smiled, setting Sherlock on fire. Sherlock closed his eyes when their lips touched again. His body jolted when Greg’s tongue traced the outline of Sherlock’s lip. Sherlock felt Greg smile at that. 

 

One of Greg’s hands went to his hair, stroking through the curls and Sherlock let out a soft moan, his lips parting. He let out a shaky breath when their tongues connected, and Greg stepped forward to slot them in place. It all felt so natural, so normal. 

 

They kissed like that for a while, in the middle of Sherlock’s living room and he was panting for air when they broke apart. Every nerve in his body was awake, heat settling in his groin when he looked up, seeing the effect their kiss had had on Greg. His eyes traveled down, and he let out a soft ‘oh’ when he noticed the beginning bulge in Greg’s trousers. A soft giggle snapped his eyes back up, face and neck red as Greg watched him with amusement dancing in his dark brown eyes. 

 

“Sorry,” Greg said, but he didn’t sound sorry at all when he smirked at Sherlock. “Guess my body isn’t nearly as tired as my mind.” 

 

“Do you-” Sherlock cut himself off, biting his lip, eyes going up and down Greg’s body before they settled on Greg’s face again. Greg’s eyebrows went higher, a gleam in his eyes but he shook his head. Sherlock let out the breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding and he took Greg’s hand when Greg reached out for him. 

 

“Let’s take this slow, okay?” Greg whispered near his lips, placing a peck on them and Sherlock nodded, heart expanding as they stared into each other's eyes. 

 

“Will you stay here tonight?” 

 

“Do you want me to?” 

 

“I wouldn’t ask otherwise.” 

 

“No, I guess you wouldn’t.” Greg responded, smiling fondly at Sherlock before kissing him again, their tongues finding each other instantly. Sherlock let out a content sigh, wanting to melt into Greg’s body and his touch.

 

“Just to sleep right?” Greg asked, shaking his head when Sherlock wanted to answer. “I just want it to be clear, so there isn’t any misunderstanding. Not that I don’t-” Greg stopped, licking his lips as he looked at Sherlock. 

 

“I do want to have sex with you, Sherlock. I guess it’s pretty obvious.” Greg grinned, playfully moving his hips forward and Sherlock rolled his eyes, his neck feeling like the fires of hell. “But I don’t want to rush this. Okay?” Greg asked, rubbing his nose against Sherlock’s. 

 

“O-okay.” Sherlock whispered, stealing a kiss from Greg before breaking out of the hold and taking Greg’s hand. He guided him to his bedroom, digging out an extra pair of sleepwear, showing Greg the bathroom and the extra supplies he needed for a shower. He felt giddy when Greg closed the door, the sound of water turning on and he quickly stripped down, taking out his own pajama bottom and shirt and putting them on. 

 

“Bathrooms free. Thanks for this.” Greg smiled and Sherlock couldn't keep his eyes off him. Something inside his stomach turned as he watched Greg in his own clothes. The legs were a bit too short but the shirt seemed to fit. He blinked, embarrassment clear on his face when Greg stepped forward, giving him a deep and  thorough kiss. The taste of his own toothpaste made his knees tremble and Greg grinned when they pulled apart. 

 

“You’re amazing, Sunshine. Don’t take to long in there. I want to cuddle.” 

 

Sherlock nodded, walking to the bathroom ad feeling like he was floating. He quickly brushed his teeth, splashing some water on his face and raking a comb through his hair. When he stepped into his bedroom, his heart was beating fast again, body feeling too warm. Greg blinked sleepily at him, big grin on his face as he pulled back the covers, patting the empty spot next to him. 

 

“This okay?” Greg asked, shifting in the bed so he was curled up in Sherlock’s arms, head on his chest, one leg over Sherlock’s. It was warm and comfortable, Sherlock’s body relaxing on the mattress. He turned his head so he was able to kiss Greg’s forehead, Greg shifting even closer to him and Sherlock couldn't stop a content smile. 

 

_ This is what I’ve wanted. All along. And I didn’t even know it till now.  _

 

“I’m sorry, Lestrade.” 

 

“Hmn?” Greg hummed, fighting sleep and Sherlock pressed another kiss to his head. 

 

“I’m sorry you had such a bad week. I know how strongly it affects you.” 

 

“The ending is certainly better.” Greg whispered, not able to stifle a yawn. 

 

“Yes. Now go to sleep.” 

 

“Hmn.” Greg smiled, lifting up his head, hand cupping Sherlock’s cheek to kiss him. They smiled at each other and Sherlock reached out to switch off the night lamp. He listened to Greg fall asleep, his breathing becoming even, body heavy and soon Sherlock followed, relaxed and happy.

The end. 

**Author's Note:**

> I was just feeling in the mood to write something soft and comfortable. Hope you enjoyed.   
> Beta'd by Bel.


End file.
